A thousand years had passed since Earth ceased to be alone. Congrats, we weren't alone anymore!
No one living remembered the exact day it happened, only that one evening, the sky cracked open. Fragments of darkness peeled away, giving birth to something humanity had never seen before—a web of starlight, radiant and horrifying, wrapping the world in its gleaming threads.
They called it the Star Line.
That night marked humanity's ascension and, at the same time, descent. Technology, religion, culture, and science—none of it mattered anymore. Everything humans knew about their place in the cosmos became meaningless overnight.
For in this radiant nightmare lay both power and terror. Civilisations collapsed as madness and desperation spread. Nations fell, torn apart by monsters born from the starlit void—creatures humanity called Mirages.
Yet, humanity survived. Slowly, those who remained adapted to the new laws of reality.
Those fortunate enough to connect with the Star Line and form a bond with stars became new gods. Aligned, they were called—beings whose veins shimmered with starlight, whose every breath reshaped reality.
And these reality turned to cards.
Power became law, and weakness became a death sentence. The Star Line, cold and impartial, judged all equally.
After a millennium, humanity's cities glowed beneath the watchful gaze of the stars above. Societies arose anew, centred on the supremacy of Alignment.
Families competed to gain favour, trading blood and life to nurture their connection to the stars. Those with strong Alignments ruled; those without simply ceased to matter.
In the heart of this harsh new world stood the Diamantakos family—a proud lineage born from war and sacrifice. Their name alone commanded respect across the Elantris. Their ancestors had grasped the stars and bent them into weapons, carving kingdoms from chaos.
But even within greatness lay seeds of ruin.
Beneath a ceiling of polished crystal, Dimitrios Diamantakos stood quietly, staring up into the refracted glow of starlight.
twelve years old and small for his age, he seemed fragile amid the grandeur of the great hall. Yet there was something strange about the way he stood, not with the innocent excitement typical of a teenager, but with quiet detachment, as if part of him was already somewhere else.
His hair was dark as ink, eyes a shade of gold. Around him bustled servants, elders, and distant cousins, each preparing for a day that would either elevate the Diamantakos name further or plunge it into darkness.
"Dimi," a gentle voice called.
He turned slowly, eyes meeting those of his mother. Alena Diamantakos was beautiful, renowned even among the nobility, but today fear shadowed her beauty. Dimitrios could sense it, though he did not fully understand why.
"Yes, Mother?"
She knelt, her silk gown pooling around her as she cupped his face. Her fingers trembled slightly. "Today is very important. You understand that, right?"
"I do," he replied softly, more serious than a teenager had any right to be. But he didn't—because in his mind scenes of another life was flashing by. They were plunging into him like he was the one experiencing it.
"Whatever happens, know that we love you very much." Her voice cracked, and she quickly smiled, forcing brightness back into her eyes. "Now come. Your father awaits."
Together, they moved through halls lined with murals depicting their ancestors' glories. Painted in vivid colours, scenes of battle and triumph unfolded: armies bowing beneath glowing stars, Mirages slaughtered in brilliant bursts of cosmic fire, generations of heroes standing proudly on the battlefield.
However, to Dimitri everything felt neutral. There was no excitement, pride, or adrenaline rush—just cold indifference.
[You should die…]
And the same voice whispering to him as always.
His father waited at the entrance to the central chamber, dressed in ceremonial robes, his expression unreadable. General Thanos Diamantakos, the patriarch of their clan, radiated authority and expectation. Yet even he seemed to hold his breath as he took Dimitrios's small hand.
"Come, son. It's your time."
They entered the Hall of Stars, a vast room illuminated by a circle of blue crystals embedded in the ceiling. The known, explored, and colonised parts of the Star Line were carved in these crystals.
Dimitri took a deep look at them, then his mind returned to the flashes of life which were not his. There he saw himself moving among these stars. Devouring them with a crazed infatuation.
Above the raised platform in the hall, influential figures of the family sat with varying expressions. Upon seeing them, every pair of eyes fell on him. Dimitri sensed curiosity, doubt, envy—even fear—in those gazes.
'Why?'
[You should die…]
'Shut up..'
[Sure...when you die.]
Dimitri stepped onto the platform, aware of how small he looked surrounded by the gathered crowd. But he stood straight, eyes fixed forward, expression empty of fear or excitement.
The ritualist stepped forward—a white-haired elder whose presence evoked centuries of tradition.
"Let the Trial of the Star Line commence," the old man intoned, his voice deep and resonant. "May the stars find favour with Dimitrios Diamantakos."
With a flourish, the elder activated the crystalline pedestal. Blue lights danced, threads of luminous energy weaving around Dimitri's small frame. The entire chamber hummed, resonating with power as reality bent, connecting to the Star Line high above.
The spectators held their breath, their futures bound to this singular moment. Even General Diamantakos and Alena stood utterly still, eyes fixed upon their child, their legacy.
Seconds passed like eternities.
Then minutes.
The threads of light continued dancing, searching, probing. Dimitri remained still, eyes open, calmly accepting whatever might come. But slowly, something changed. The hopeful glow dimmed, flickering uncertainly. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, confusion blooming into dread.
[You have been rejected by the stars…]
Dimitri watched as the luminescent lights started to disappear… no… cease to exist. And he watched the flashes of another person's life in his mind reaching its end. His surroundings shifted. Now he stood on a dark, empty expanse.
A single man stood at the end of this darkness.
He slowly turned, locking eyes with Dimitri—a pair of eyes too golden, which almost burned his own. Dimitri showed an expression for the first time in his life: confusion.
Because the presence of this man felt like meeting his other lost self.
Like meeting himself.
"Who are you…?"
The man moved his lips, but no words came out. Yet Dimitri read his words clearly:
[You should die…]
'What?'